


opportunity

by setosdarkness



Category: Original Work
Genre: Gen, High School, Mystery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-31
Updated: 2021-01-31
Packaged: 2021-03-17 10:08:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,255
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29098557
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/setosdarkness/pseuds/setosdarkness
Summary: A burnt corpse is found in the stairwell of a high school in rural Japan.
Relationships: Original Female Character & Original Male Character
Comments: 8
Kudos: 18





	opportunity

**Author's Note:**

> thank you so much for entrusting this request to me, and i hope you enjoy! :D♥

— — — — —

Lei’s been looking forward to the Sports Festival for what seems to be like forever, so it’s a total bummer that it’s now cancelled. She slumps forward on her desk, pillowing her cheek over her arms so she can’t see the mock entrance exam spreadsheets tucked underneath.

All around her are similarly dispirited students, most of them still wearing sports jerseys. A somber air presses down on the classroom, no breeze wafting in from the window as though everything’s been rendered into stillness. Perhaps unsurprising, given that the hallways are crowded with a whole other set of people wearing uniforms.

Policemen with funeral-worthy solemnity. Everyone’s ordered to stay in place, as stairwells and hallways are cordoned off.

Gossip travels quickly, rocketing from the phones of students from 3-F all the way to 1-A. Of course it doesn’t miss 3-B. Phones are usually banned during regular class hours, but the teachers have all been called somewhere so there’s nobody around to tell them off. 3-B’s LINE chat is abuzz with various information, most of it pure speculation.

She stifles a yawn and shifts so that she’s looking on the opposite desk.

It’s a classmate, but strangely enough, she’s taken aback by the sight. He’s not in his jersey, but he’s not wearing the standard black gakuran either. His hoodie is pulled up, face angled towards her in such a way that she couldn’t discern much about him aside from his eyes and the tip of his nose.

It takes her several moments to think of a name to associate with him. Etto, a transfer student from… somewhere. Transfer students are rare enough of an occurrence to generate much fanfare, but this person’s presence has been so low-spirited that everyone’s pretty much ignored him. It’s to the point that she can’t even pinpoint the time he’s arrived here. Was it during the school opening? Just-before summer break? After mid-terms?

She averts her gaze and tries to slowly shift back to her original position, facing the other desk. It feels awkward, but Etto doesn’t call her out for her staring. In fact, she has the impression that the other isn’t even breathing.

Inadvertently, or perhaps affected by the other guy’s gloomy atmosphere, she ends up napping. Only realizing it when the ding of the last bell jolts into her. There’s the collective rattle of her classmates pushing back their chairs, the rise of voices.

Rubbing at her eyes, she listens to the developments that have stirred them while she’s had a nap. All this commotion, apparently because there’s a student that’s been burnt on the staircase leading up to the rooftop. More than the dreadful fate of this unfortunate student, what it managed to stir up is the more fantastical wildness that could only be found in teenagers at the prime of their youth. “Cursed” and “haunted” are thrown around. Gossip about the student’s identity, grades, friends, all dredged up as though they’re all the world’s top detectives unfairly trapped in an educational institution.

It’s enough to boil away the lethargy that has suffused into her. She chats with a group of girls congregating two rows away, but it doesn’t last long. Despite her interest flaring, she still finds herself being swept along with the wave of students herded out of the classroom and further out of the building. Policemen work alongside the teachers to send them out in orderly files.

The victim is someone from 3-E. Lei doesn’t know her personally, but they’ve probably crossed paths once or twice, having their homerooms in the same floor. The interest to know more pricks into her, even as she obediently walks back to the school’s dorm, as she unquestioningly listens to the dorm manager lecture them about safety.

One good thing about this matter is that no homework has been assigned to them. She’s free to spend the rest of her afternoon browsing through the theories filing up the class’s LINE chat. Their class monitor posts something about the “mystery of the 13th step”, complete with exaggerated emoji packs of horror.

…Hmm. She has the niggling feeling that she’s heard of something similar to that happening in this school. She can’t quite remember the details well, but seeing that her classmates are all jeering at the class monitor for posting something like a cliché story, she doesn’t ask for clarification.

There’s a lot of restlessness, but most students their age are able to expend it in other ways. Chatting with roommates, playing cards, grouping up in online game raids. She conveniently lives on a single dorm room, no roommate being assigned to her since the beginning of the semester. It’s easy to slip away after the nightly roll-call.

It’s only because she has a lot of energy reserved for the Sports Festival that never came to be. She’s only exercising, even if it involves some clever climbing up walls and dodging the stricter nighttime patrol.

There’s a crudely-made checkpoint in the school building where the corpse was discovered. There’s only one person manning it, Old Tora-san, as he’s not-so-affectionately called by the student body. Maybe nobody’s expecting that there’d be some naughty students sneaking in to a crime scene at night, the security is very lax. As lax as Old Tora-san’s grip on the wooden broom that he’s embracing in his sleep right now, truly shirking off his guardian duties.

It works for Lei though, so she happily takes the chance offered by this lackadaisical guard. No need for flashlights, as the school saves up on ventilation bills by having lots of wide windows everywhere. The sky is cloudless, ample moonlight streaming inside the building.

She’s alert when she makes her way up three flights of stairs. She could be considered the sporty type, so she’s not even breathless after this campaign.

But as soon as she meets the cordoned off staircase, the one that leads to the rooftop, her breath catches in her throat.

The corpse has been removed, the only trace left behind is the chalk outline of where she’s been found.

But that’s not what shocks her.

Etto’s hoodie is still pulled up over his head, and in the eerie atmosphere, his gloominess is possibly scarier than a ghost’s. He lifts his head up slightly from where he’s crouched over the top step. Hoarsely, “Why are you here?”

“That should be my line!”

“Are you close with Tachibana Hina?”

It takes her a moment to place the name. “…Not particularly.” But then, there’s something judgmental about the other’s gaze, so she hurriedly adds, “But she’s a fellow student! Of course, I’m curious!”

“Think you can solve this before the police can?” A scornful little laugh. “You’re already in high school but you still haven’t been cured of chuunibyou tendencies.”

The more she spends time with this guy, the more she understands why nobody really pays attention to him. Truly the type that could ruin one’s day. Or night, as it stands. She clicks her tongue. “I think that someone going around acting all aloof and mysterious is more chuuni.”

Etto looks at her for a moment more, then goes back to inspecting the floor as though it’s more interesting than an actual human being. It’s quite infuriating, so she hurriedly makes her way up, avoiding the outlines that have been left behind.

And then, the moment she reaches the 12th step, the scent of gasoline punches into her. That’s right, someone got burnt alive here. Strangely enough, the burning didn’t extend to anywhere else but the student’s body. She’s only been here a couple of times during her three years of high school, but the wall’s paint seems to be unsullied. So are the floors.

…Put that way, it probably is more accurate to say that someone had burnt her somewhere, and then relocated her here…

But why? Why her? Why this place in particular?

And why—

“Huh? What is that?” She finally notices the thing that Etto has been studiously inspecting. “Heels?!”

It’s only then that Etto looks at her with something that’s not silently categorizing her in the level of furniture. He tilts his head, reminding her of a crouched frog. “So you do think it’s from women’s heels.”

“Isn’t it obvious?” She can’t help the trace of smugness in her tone.

Etto ignores that bit. “Today’s the Sports Festival.”

“That’s also obvious.”

“Even the staff and teachers are expected to participate.” The statement hangs between them, as Etto rises up. He’s made even taller by the fact that he’s two steps higher. There’s obvious disappointment in his face when she doesn’t pick up the thread. “And so, everyone should be wearing flat, sports shoes.”

“Oh! Maybe it’s from one of the police…?” Working adults don’t have to conform to strict uniform, right?

“Whoever called them must have already said something about the corpse being on the fourth floor staircase. You really think someone from the police would wear such pointed heels to go up here?”

She wants to retort for the sake of it, but she catches her tongue. It’s true, it feels rather unprofessional. Plus, this is a relatively rural town, and heels are considered as ‘too modern’ still. But there it is, right in front of them, a clear imprint of a pair of heels. Given the general look of it, it seems like those stiletto-types, thin and round and definitely unadvisable for climbing up long flights of stairs.

…Wait.

“Eh? It’s just this one footprint?” She looks down. There’s enough moonlight for her to see that there are no other footprints aside from hers and Etto’s going up the stairs, as well as the one made in heels.

“So you finally noticed.”

She shivers, goosebumps crawling up her arms. “What does it mean…?”

“You’re a local, right?” Not waiting for her answer. “So you should have heard about _kasha_?”

“What the hell is that?”

Monotone recitation, “ _Kasha_ , a flaming chariot that takes a sinful soul to hell.” A brief pause to lick his lips. “Of course, some say that it’s manned by a cat demon that goes on to steal the body for its own use.”

A part of her thinks that if she doesn’t know any better, she’d suspect Etto to be a cat demon himself. She shakes her head. “Classmate Etto, you should read less novels and focus on scientific ways.”

Sarcasm for sarcasm. “Classmate Lei, _kasha_ is a famous folklore from this prefecture and yet you don’t even know it? You dare call yourself a local?”

“Of course, I am! My parents have lived here—” Her head hurts for a brief moment, cutting off her words. She tries again. “I’ve lived in—”

Memorization and geography admittedly are far from her strongest suits, but surely she could remember the name of her hometown? Her mind is strangely blank, but thankfully it seems that the person in front of her hasn’t noticed the strangeness at all.

“Whatever.” With that dismissive farewell, Etto then brushes past her, hands in his pockets.

This leaves her with the view of that sole set of footprints, as well as the tightly-shut door of the rooftop’s entrance. Like that door has been slammed shut on her. She bristles. “You’re going to leave just like that?!”

Etto only looks back at her once he’s at the stairs’ landing. Almost provocative, “Tachibana Hina means nothing to me.” Almost, because the gloominess really zaps away any extraneous energy from him. “I merely passed by because it was boring without homework.”

And then he saunters away as though he didn’t just casually trespass into a crime scene inside a school building near midnight. She’s too stunned to react or try calling him back.

She stays in that muddleheaded stupor for a few more minutes, before she dizzily starts going down the stairs. She comforts herself with thinking that the police are professionals, that they’ll certainly do their job. She isn’t particularly close with the victim, but the thought of such a… death, of such a fate, is really too much.

Lei doesn’t tell anyone about this trip. Not that she’s all that chummy with her classmates. The list of people she can confide such a secret in is as thin as the worksheets she’s managed to answer over the next couple of days: tantamount to nothing.

She keeps an eye on the class’s LINE chat. Lingers after-school even when she’s not on the cleaning duty. Sits in the same cafeteria table as some classmates that she usually steers clear of. All in hopes of getting more information.

But as the days roll into weeks, the missed Sports Festival is forgotten, and so is the case of the student that has been burnt on that staircase. None of the teachers ever bring it up again, no police officers return for further investigation. Nobody’s ever been pulled for an interrogation, despite the fact that the school doesn’t have all-seeing guardians in the form of security cameras in the hallways.

Lei doesn’t manage to get an excuse to visit 3-E’s homeroom until three weeks later. While this is a fairly rural town, the classrooms are made with the ambition of becoming a bustling city campus. There are several unoccupied seats in each class. None of the seats in 3-E has any indication that they’ve been used by the victim, all offerings to the dead missing. No vase filled with white chrysanthemums, no picture frames with Tachibana’s smiling visage.

It’s as if, for all intents and purposes, the world has decided to move on from her death.

It really is quite bizarre.

She slides her gaze to her side. Maybe even more bizarre is the fact that Classmate Etto’s attendance gives off the appearance of a hobbyist simply muddling through the motions of compulsory education. Then again, she hasn’t really paid attention to the other’s presence before, so maybe he’s always been a delinquent prone to cutting classes?

But if that’s the case, the teachers should be reprimanding him, right…?

But nobody ever speaks up when he comes in without even a late notice slip, or when he disappears for stretches of time entirely. If not for that one instance when Etto brushed past her that night, a solid bump against her shoulder, she’d suspect the other’s a ghost that only she could see.

She doesn’t get a lot of chances to think further about her suspicions. For students like her on the cusp of university entrance exams, nothing would be better than for time to slow to a crawl. Unlike cities like Tokyo, the only cramming school in the area is at least a thirty-minute train ride away. Most students make do with self-study and forming fortresses made of books and worksheets. She’s hemmed in by these things in all four corners.

By the time she manages to breathe in and stretch, it’s already the last day before winter vacation, two full months after that unfortunate Sports Day. The LINE group has some scattered invitations to hang out in so-and-so’s house, but it’s mostly occupied by links to online classes, to a copy of last year’s Tokyo University’s freshman representative’s study materials, to a niconico video of someone sharing mnemonics for the more difficult physics equations.

She makes a face at her phone for its nonstop barrage of exam resources. The school will be closing for the next two weeks, so dorm residents like her are expected to return home. She dawdles as third-years fill the hallways with sobs about how they don’t have enough time until the first round of entrance exams start after the New Year.

Etto isn’t around. Nobody mentions the burnt corpse again.

She wants… closure, in a way. She can’t be cooped up at home while a part of her mind is stuck in this place. She can’t focus on studying like that.

She makes all these excuses in her head, as she slinks away from the crowd. Slowly makes her way up the staircase leading to the rooftop. Nobody and nothing is around, not even the chalk outline. Not even the smell of gasoline. No more traces of what had happened.

She did some research on it. _Kasha_ , Etto once said. A _kasha_ would come during the funeral possession of a sinful human. What sin did that girl commit? And it’s supposed to be a ‘local folklore’, but it’s a folklore that’s spread throughout many regions…

Try as she might to think of other things, her mind keeps circling back to the ‘sinful’ bit.

Just what kind of grave sin would warrant someone to be burnt to death?

“I knew you’d come back here,” says Etto from behind her, and everything becomes a blank.

— — — — —

Etto considers sitting on the steps. Ultimately decides that with the way Subject 3B018 is sprawled over the staircase, there really isn’t a lot of room for him. He instead sighs as he leans against the closed-shut door leading to the rooftop, the wintry cold seeping through the metal and through his clothes. His phone buzzes with a text that says, “Affirmative. Collector incoming.”

Befitting of an operation that’s been in place for several decades, everything is done efficiently.

In less than five minutes, there’s the steady click of heels going up the stairs. Etto keeps his head turned downward, hoodie pulled up so he only sees a pair of blood-red heels and the hem of the Collector’s pants.

Etto carefully doesn’t lift his head, in case he inadvertently gets a good look into the other person’s identity. He’s been in this business for several years, straight out of high school himself and scouted into a government program that handles human experiments. He knows that there are special employees that have more authority than anyone else. Employees who are tasked with cleaning up those who’ve made attempts to break free from the program that doesn’t offer an exit clause that isn’t gruesome death.

“This one isn’t linked to 3E009’s escape attempt?” Collector asks him, the smooth androgynous voice not faltering even when 3B018’s fallen body is hefted up their shoulders like a burlap sack.

“3B018 has blended seamlessly with the high school program, even if a bit… lacking in intelligence.” Etto recalls trying to prod her into revealing if she’s in cahoots with the other subject that has met a fiery end. She’s completely clueless: to the escape attempt, and to her own participation as a test subject. “She’s fit for recycling.”

Even though he can be considered a senior in this operation, he hasn’t made it this far by being nosy. He doesn’t know the details about the actual experiments, he doesn’t fret about the morality of these things. All he knows is that the entire school is set up as an acclimatization zone, before the test subjects are released into society.

After that… well, he hasn’t made it this far by caring about things that don’t affect him.

“We’ll take your recommendation into consideration.” Collector pauses slightly, then, “Good work, 3770. You may be up for a promotion soon.”

“Thanks for your regards,” Etto says and stays there until the coldness has seeped into his marrows.

— — — — —

Lei’s been looking forward to the Sports Festival for what seems to be like forever, so it’s a relief that it’s finally arrived! A niggling feeling tells her that she’s been waiting for this for a very long time, and that she should cherish the opportunity.

She stands up and leaves the classroom with her classmates.

She doesn’t look back.

— — — — —  
**end**

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading until the end & happy sunday! :)
> 
> \+ [kasha](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Kasha_\(folklore\)#Development_of_the_term_and_concept_over_time\)) :D


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